


Time for the Truth

by dk323



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Fever, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8258137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dk323/pseuds/dk323
Summary: When Abe is 14, Henry falls ill with a high fever. As the fever takes hold, Henry has an idea. It’s not one of his better ideas. But with Abigail away, it’s up to a delirious Henry to make the final decision.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a belated (I'm so sorry!) fic for Atwojay for Henry's 237th Birthday Gift Exchange. You asked for something fluffy with Henry and Abe being awesome father and son, and them being adorable. I managed the awesome bit... the story came out angsty (with a hopeful ending).
> 
> Thank you to Kythe42 for addressing my error with 911. I appreciate it. I corrected the issue. *face palm* I should have checked that out to make sure before posting. My bad.

**1958**

Henry sighed as he checked the thermometer. He didn’t like how high the mercury rose inside the glass tube.

101.8 degrees Fahrenheit.

He groaned to himself, settling back into bed. Abigail hadn’t chosen the best time to leave. But then again, Henry hadn’t expected to contract a fever. He’d been fine when Abigail left two days ago to visit family in England. Henry had elected to stay behind since Abraham had just started high school, and they didn’t want to interrupt his studies.

He could hear Abe hovering near the doorway before he heard his son speak.

Hearing Abe’s footsteps venture further into the room, Henry waited patiently until his son came into view. He looked over at his bedside table at the cup half full of cold tea.

Abe came to stand by his bedside.

“Hey Dad. Are you all right?” He asked in concern.

Henry knew that Abe was smart. He had noticed Henry being especially quiet and shoving food around his dinner plate versus actually eating any of it. And Henry had dismissed himself early, citing that he was feeling tired that evening after a long, challenging day at work in the ER.

“Yeah… I just have a bit of a fever. Could you get me some hot tea? And some water? And crackers?”

“All right. Should I get the Tylenol too? Or maybe call the ambulance service?” Abe looked nervous about the last suggestion.

“No, no need to go to such drastic measures. Tylenol would be good. I meant to include that as well.”

Abe bit his lip, nodding. He made to exit the bedroom, but he turned back around. “What did the thermometer say, Dad?”

“100 degrees Fahrenheit,” Henry lied as smoothly as he could so as not to worry his son.

Abe looked suspicious. “That doesn’t…” he paused.

Abe then pressed his hand to Dad’s forehead. He frowned. “That’s very warm.”

He went over to grab the thermometer, where the higher temperature wasn’t showing anymore.

“I’ll go and recalibrate the thermometer. And then you can check your temperature again. So I can see what it says and not what you feel comfortable telling me.”

Henry’s face fell at that, but he resigned himself to not being able to fool Abe. He let out a long sigh of defeat.

His son had won this round. “It looks like you inherited your mother’s intelligence.”

Abe grinned. “Of course. There was never any question of that,” he said smoothly.

“I apologize Abraham for disrupting your Friday night. I’m sure you had plans to meet with your friends,” Henry told him.

“Nothing exciting,” Abe shrugged it off. “I think it’s raining outside anyway. I don’t mind. I just want you to get better.”

With that, he left the room.

Abe took longer than expected. Approaching half an hour. Or it almost felt like an hour to Henry as he began to feel delirious from the fever. Henry was concerned that his temperature had gone up. Hopefully the Tylenol would reduce the fever.

Abe came back carrying a tray with what Henry asked for: a glass of water, hot tea, Saltine crackers along with the Tylenol. But he also had put orange slices on the plate with the crackers. He had a damp cloth on one side of the tray.

He set the tray over Henry’s lap, extending out the legs so that it would sit more comfortably on the bed.

“Maybe the cloth will help?” Abe offered. “I made sure it was cold enough.”

“Of course. That would help tremendously. Thank you, Abe.”

Abe smiled, putting the wet cloth over his forehead.

Henry started drinking the hot tea, switching between that and the water when the tea became too warm for his liking.

“I thought the oranges would be a good idea,” Abe pointed out, smiling a little. “Since it has Vitamin C.”

Henry smiled back. “Of course. Good thinking.”

Abe’s eyes widened. “The thermometer! I have to get that. Make sure you eat. You have to feed a fever, right?”

Henry nodded. “Yes.”

“Maybe I could make you a sandwich? Jam on bread? What do you want?”

“Just a sandwich with turkey breast, lettuce and tomato. That should be fine.”

“All right. I’ll prepare that for you,” Abe said, acting especially anxious to help.

“Abe, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry so much,” Henry tried to reassure him.

Abe gave him a tight smile. “Okay, Dad.”

He left the room.

Henry lay there in bed wishing he believe the words of comfort he’d imparted to Abe. He felt worse than before Abe came into the room. He was concerned that his fever was rising.

Henry took a Tylenol pill, hoping it would help.

Abe returned only about 20 minutes later with a sandwich in one hand and the thermometer in the other.

“I took the Tylenol,” Henry told him. “I’m certain it will help.”

“All right.”

Abe set down the sandwich on the tray. He shook the thermometer and then handed it to Henry.

Henry used the thermometer, putting it under his arm.

A few tense moments later, the thermometer was ready.

Removing it before Henry could even get a chance to look at the thermometer, Abe read it. He soon frowned upon seeing the level the mercury had risen to.

“It says 102.2,” Abe told him.

Henry didn’t like that at all. “The Tylenol will work,” he said as confidently as he could muster despite his growing irritation as the fever made him feel truly miserable. “It will just take some time. Let’s give it another hour.”

“All right. That sounds like a good idea.” Abe accepted that answer.

Unfortunately the Tylenol didn’t work, and Henry watched his temperature continue to climb as Abe regularly checked it. Henry continued to take Tylenol, but somehow, frustratingly, that wasn’t reducing the fever as it should have been.

Henry hated to see the look of almost fear, but mainly deep concern on his young son’s face.

His head ached, his vision swimming until Henry swore Abe had de-aged right before his eyes. He wasn’t at the beginning of high school years, but he looked like he was still in elementary school.

Seeing the confusing hallucination made Henry feel worse. Abe shouldn’t be looking after him. He was too young.

Henry reached out for Abe’s hand and clung to it. “Where’s your mother, Abraham? Where’s Abigail?” He asked.

Abe frowned, the concern seemingly permanently etched into his features now. “Dad, Mom’s away in England visiting family. She’s not here,” he told Henry as gently as he could, whispering it to him as if his Dad was the child who needed to be handled as carefully as possible.

Henry couldn’t bear this treatment particularly from someone he was meant to take care of.

Henry shook his head. “No, no. That’s not right. She should be here. She needs to be here. You’re too young, Abraham. You can’t do this on your own.”

“I’m fourteen, Dad. I can handle this. Don’t worry,” Abe reassured him, patting his hand.

Abe peered over the latest thermometer reading.

“What does it say? Tell me. Please,” Henry was earnest to know.

Abe turned to face him. “I think I should call for an ambulance. I’m sorry, Dad. The medicine isn’t working. I can’t let this continue without a doctor seeing you at the hospital.”

Henry shook his head. He gripped Abe’s hand even harder. “No. You know I hate being a patient. The night’s always the worst. The fever will break by morning. I promise you.”

Yet Abe still appeared doubtful. Of course, Henry was sure his son wasn’t confident in his decision-making capacity with his temperature at 104 degrees.

“I think I have to do this. I don’t know what else I can do to help you,” Abe said. He sounded stubborn.

If Henry was willing to admit it, he did feel delirious. So much so that he wouldn’t have dared say what he said next if he hadn’t been ill.

“You have to kill me, Abe.”

Abe’s eyes widened. “Dad, you’re not making sense.”

“Listen to me, Abraham. You have to understand. I can’t die… I have a condition…” Henry trailed off.

He could see Abe backing away, probably aiming to get to the nearest phone.

“Abe, please! I am immortal. It… I know you believe I’m not in my right mind, but this… this is the truth,” he told his son, desperately hoping Abe would have faith in him.

A wild hope, true, but Henry couldn’t help but cling to that small hope. That Abe wouldn’t simply brush off his words as the delirious ramblings of a sick man.

Abe bit his lip.

“Dad, you’re scaring me. The only way I can help you is calling for an ambulance to take you to the hospital. I won’t let you argue with me on this. You’re not thinking clearly. Please don’t deny it.”

Abe’s tone was firm.

Henry grabbed his son’s hand, preventing him from leaving his room.

He could feel sweat coming down his brow. He felt absolutely miserable, his whole body ached, and he was either too hot or too cold. Henry had gotten so frustrated, he’d ripped the sheets off him when he was feeling particularly overheated.

“I’m sorry, Abe. I understand your concerns. But I have something in my drawer right here.”

Henry pointed to his bedside drawer.

Abe looked at it as if he expected a venomous snake to pop out of it the minute he opened the drawer.

“There’s a tonic in the top drawer, Abe. It will help me.”

Henry was careful not to mention that it was morphine. Strong enough to put him to sleep and kill him. He was grateful that the bottle wasn’t labeled. He had gotten hold of the morphine just the other day. With guilt, he kept the bottle as Henry knew the only reason he’d gotten it now was due to Abigail being away. She wouldn’t accidentally find it.

She would have been angry at him for keeping something like that in the house. Even if she was aware of his immortality, Henry knew Abigail hated seeing him die. Using something to help speed the process along when he felt just on the edge of death would have upset her.

Unless he was in great pain, Abigail was never at peace with keeping strong sedatives close by even if it was “just in case.”

It certainly didn’t help Henry’s argument when she was well aware of his past morphine addiction when he was feeling at his lowest. With Abe to consider, Henry had to agree with Abigail that neither of them wanted to set a bad example for their son. Henry caught in the web of addiction with morphine again while Abe watched him fall apart was not how Henry wished his son to see him.

But now, in his state of delirium, Henry feared being admitted to the hospital. This was the one way he saw out of it.

After all, what if the doctors couldn’t help him? And he died, disappearing right from his hospital bed?

Then it wouldn’t just be his son he’d have to worry about discovering his longtime secret.

Abe took out the bottle, but he didn’t give it to Henry.

Instead, he opened the bottle. Henry didn’t like the grim determination written on his face.

Abe said, “If you don’t tell me what’s in this, then I will drink it.”

Henry took the threat seriously. They hadn’t raised their son to be a fool. Abe knew his dad was lying through his teeth.

And Abe was both right and wrong.

Because the morphine wouldn’t stop his fever – unless one counted heavy sedation as a cure -- but it would give Henry peace and let him sleep. If he had to wake up in a cold river, then so be it. At least he wouldn’t be suffering from this frustrating fever that was making him hallucinate.

Henry could see Abe’s hands shaking as he held the bottle.

He sighed. “Son, just… drain it. I apologize.”

Abe gave a quick nod. Henry didn’t miss how relieved he looked, his shoulders fell and he let out a breath.

“What’s in here anyway?” Abe still asked. He shook the bottle, peering at it.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s best if it’s gone.”

Abe frowned, but then he shrugged it off to Henry’s relief. “All right. I’ll just go to the bathroom to empty the tonic in the sink.”

Abe left the room.

Henry mourned the loss of some good morphine, but it was better than the alternative.

Confessing to his son that he kept a bottle of morphine at his bedside.

Though it wasn’t easy for Henry to make this request, he asked Abe to call the local ambulance service upon his return to Henry’s bedside.

With Abigail away, Henry couldn’t worry his son any more than he already have. Especially with Abigail not being there to assuage Abe’s concerns. And he’d always imagined Abigail being with him when he revealed his immortality to Abe.

Not drinking a full bottle of morphine and leaving Abe to watch him disappear. And once Henry returned home, he didn’t doubt Abe would believe his dad was a ghost. Without Abigail to mediate, provide the support and explanation Abe needed; the reveal of his secret would turn disastrous.

~ * ~


	2. Chapter 2

~ * ~

Henry was grateful that the doctors at the hospital did succeed in helping him. 

The fever broke in the early morning hours. Abe was by his side the whole time. Henry urged him to get some sleep, feeling bad for putting his son through such an ordeal. He managed to sleep, albeit a restless one, in the chair a few feet away from Henry’s hospital bed.

Henry wished he could go to comfort Abe when he sounded like he was scared, saying “No, no, no, no…” like there was something happening in his dream that he couldn’t stand to see.

But he still felt too weak as he recovered from the fever. Somehow his limbs felt impossibly heavy and he simply couldn’t gather the strength to climb out of bed. Henry hated that feeling but he had to admit that it was better than waking up in a cold river in the dark of the night. 

And most importantly, Henry hadn’t frightened him by disappearing. Which would have resulted in Abe believing he’d lost his Dad forever until Henry shocked him by coming back, that is.

By the early afternoon, Henry was able to be discharged from the hospital. 

They got a taxi home. Abe was very quiet throughout the ride. Maybe whatever he had to say, he didn’t want the driver to overhear.

Henry sighed, and he put his arm across Abe’s shoulders, hugging his son to him. He hoped to reassure Abe by the gesture.

“I’m feeling better, Abe. You did the right thing. Thank you,” he said, his tone sincere.

Abe looked at him, giving a small reserved smile. He put his head on his Dad’s shoulder, something he rarely did these days being at that stage where he was growing out of it. 

But even with him being 14 now, Henry still would always see him as his little boy. 

~ * ~

When they returned home, Abe spoke up while they ate lunch.

Tentatively, he broached the subject. “When you said you were immortal, you were telling the truth. Weren’t you?” He asked.

Henry could see Abe was anxious, looking down and not making eye contact with him. As if he expected Henry to dismiss it as delirious ramblings not to be taken seriously.

Sighing, Henry regarding his son. “What makes you believe I was speaking the truth? The fever was a bad one. I was not in the best state of mind.”

Henry was curious to see why his son believed his admission was the truth. Yet he still planned not to confirm it…not yet at least. Without Abigail, he just couldn’t. But he could, perhaps, give his son reassurance that he was not wrong to wonder about Henry’s feverish confession of being immortal.

Abe shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. He looked at his father then, determined.

“I just thought you sounded like you meant it. That it was a fact,” Abe told him. “And besides, it seemed like a weird thing to say even if you were not feeling like yourself.”

“I’m glad that you believed me,” Henry said. “I think it’s best we wait until your mother returns. We can discuss this as a family. I want her to be involved.”

Abe raised his eyebrow. “So you’re saying you are what you said? Are you immortal, Dad?”

“Would you believe me if I confirmed it now?” Henry asked him, choosing his words carefully.

After a long pause, Abe said, “I’m not sure.”

Henry reached out to grasp Abe’s shoulder. “I know this is hard to comprehend, but it will make sense once your mother and I explain my condition to you.”

Abe gave a small nod. “All right, Dad. If you say so.”

~ * ~

After Abe went to bed that night, Henry snuck into his son’s bedroom, walking in as quietly as he could.

He watched his son as he slept, unaware of his dad’s presence. The common belief held true: people did appear younger in their sleep. Abe was more relaxed now than in his fitful rest at the hospital. Now that the ordeal was done, Henry was grateful to see his son more at peace, able to have the untroubled slumber he deserved.

“One day, I may need you more than you need me. But I trust you will be ready. I couldn’t be prouder that you are my son. I’m certain it’s thanks to your mother’s influence,” Henry finished with a smile to himself.

He saw Abe’s mouth twist into a smile as if he’d heard his dad’s words.

Though in the past he feared the day Abe would learn his secret, Henry felt now he could gather the courage to tell Abe. Of course Abigail by his side would be a great help as well.

Abe was growing up. He had been brave enough – on his own -- to deal with his dad suffering through a dangerous fever. Considering that, Henry felt he could be likewise when he explained his immortality to him.

~ * ~

The End


End file.
